![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() It’s some archaic law that no one’s ever bothered changing. In the supernatural community, the legal age of adulthood is sixteen. “Make a deal with me,” I say, putting as much glamour into my voice as possible. I lunge for him and catch his wrist, my hand glowing. The siren surfaces, stretching out just beneath my skin. He might’ve scared the shit out of me, but at this point, I’m too far gone. Stepping away from me, he says, “Like I told you before, I don’t bargain with minors. He runs his nose down my cheek and laughs at my obvious fear. Oh God, is he telling the truth? Could he really make me do those things? “Could you kill for me?” He asks, his voice low. Tell me, cherub, could you give me anything I wanted?” Anything I want, you would have to give to me. “But for a siren … oh, I would make an exception. I want to back up, but a primal sort of fear roots me in place. “You’ve heard that secrets are my favorite, haven’t you?” “What dark and terrible secrets would you share?” he asks, moving in close. “What would you be willing to give me?” he says, prowling towards me. ![]()
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